twilight moon

THE  YEAR  I was born (1961), the song "Moon River" won the Academy Award for Best Original Song. It was Audrey Hepburn's theme song in her role as Holly Golightly in the the movie "Breakfast at Tiffany's" adapted from the Truman Capote novel of the same name. I remember singing that song out loud when I was a little boy. I knew the lyrics by heart. Johnny Mercer wrote them using word imagery inspired by his childhood in Savannah, Georgia, which resonated deeply with this Southern boy. I grew up in a house on a bluff across from the Coosa river in Alabama and dreamed of "crossing it in style, someday."

A  FITTING end to summer and beginning of the autumnal equinox this year was the Super Harvest Moon. Usually, the Harvest Moon is the closest full moon to beginning of the fall season, but this year it actually coincides with the changing of seasons, making it "Super." It was 1991 when this last happened. Here in the Northern Hemisphere, the sun set on the Western sky while the full moon rose opposite to it in the Eastern sky, creating a magical twilight that was illuminated by the sun and the moon at the same time, hence the name "Harvest Moon." It was named such because the farmers could harvest their crops by the light reflected by the moon from the sun. My photo below was taken after the moon had risen in the sky. I didn't make it to the park in time to see the gigantic, low-to- the-horizon Harvest Moon, which is due to a perceptual effect called the Moon illusion. Even so, as fall begins in the Northern Hemisphere, spring begins in the Southern Hemisphere.

HAVING  REDISCOVERED one of my all-time favorite tree decorations in storage a few weeks ago—a large hand-blown amber mercury glass moon face ornament—I photographed it in its singular beauty with a small branch from the large evergreen in the photo of the full moon below. I had never encountered this beautiful evergreen in a park I've been to on numerous occasions. Actually, I had a completely different blog post planned, but I felt this event had some sort of special significance.  

ACCORDING  TO my friend who is a psychic and astrologer, Cathy Burroughs, "this [lunar event] is an earth-shaking combination with the Sun and Saturn in Libra, Pluto and the North Node of Life Path in Capricorn, the South Node of past life gifts in security-minded Cancer, together with Full Moon in Aries with Uranus and Jupiter in Pisces is enough to tear us apart—hopefully to be reassembled in accordance with our higher evolutionary path." I don't know enough about astrology to make complete sense of all that, but it sounds like something quite out of the ordinary. According to Cathy, "it's a perilously, mercilessly rocky ridge around this bad boy."  

HERE'S  HOPING all this upheaval still signifies a fruitful harvest from the abundance the universe holds for all of us. And with the rarefied light reflected back gloriously by the full moon, this year's holiday magic begins!

MAN IN THE MOON | (Top) This beautifully evocative amber mercury glass ornament was hand blown and is quite large (about 5 1/2 inches in diameter). It was distributed by Department 56. I've had this ornament for well over a decade—it has always seemed to me to have such a serene personality and its face always reminds me of "my Huckleberry Finn" (Lowell, in the Polaroid picture at right, who lured me from my home state of Alabama to my life in Atlanta). Never failing to make me smile, we always hung this ornament on the trees we had together. Talking to him tonight at dinner, I came home afterward and photographed it. Lowell and I are still friends after a 6-year relationship back in the 90's. Being such a nester, I am still in Atlanta, but he—ever the adventurer—is now living in San Carlos, California with partner Frank.

TWILIGHT TREE | (Above) This evergreen tree frames the Super Harvest Moon after it has risen in the sky at twilight on September 22, 2010 at Freedom Park in Atlanta, Georgia.

©2010 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

photography, collecting and styling by Darryl Moland,
photo of Lowell by unknown photographer 

Luci in the sky

Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened. —Anatole France

IF THERE WAS ever a reason to relate the unique bond that sometimes humans are lucky enough to be able to share with animals, then there would be no words to describe such a profound and wordless expression of love. Poetry could possibly come close, but true-to-form, the love (and bond) I shared with my Calico cat Luci was indescribable in words, except to say that I've never had a more amazing connection with an animal. She brought such pure love and light into my life, I wonder sometimes if I could have made it through some of the losses and trials I've been through in the past few years without her. Now that she is gone from this plane of existence, I'll have to find my way back to her with all the good memories she left with me.

BARELY ABLE to write the Saint Patrick's post I had already prepared the photos for last week, I was at a loss, but did it to take my mind off of my grief, if only temporarily. It was written last Tuesday on the evening of the day I had to let Luci go "run with the Gods." I titled that post "faith, hope, love and luck." And I had in mind a double meaning when that title was decided, as that was a set of words that could also describe the reasons for the angst I felt in my loss. It was almost impossible to make the decision to have her euthanized because she wasn't letting go of this life very willingly and I wasn't letting go of her because I was able to care for her well in those last days without her being too uncomfortable. But I know she was hanging on for me as much as anything, and that awful decision finally had to be made for her sake. For this week's post, I add the word "light" to that list of words . . . in honor of Luci.

THIS FIRST day of spring was a rainy one here, but last Tuesday, when I had to let her go, it was a beautiful, sunny and warm day that felt more like the first day of spring than today. Being an indoor cat with only minimal time outside during her life, I took her outside that day. She bathed in the sun, breathed in the fresh springlike air and even attempted to nibble a few fresh grass blades. Coming home this evening, after the rain had let up, I looked up into the sky and saw the stars more clearly than usual (with all the ambient light a city like Atlanta creates). Maybe it was only Luci looking back at me and allowing me to see more stars in the sky than I thought possible. There's something about the days of mourning after a great loss that makes one more cognizant of the profound things the universe holds—so easily missed—in our busy lives. I'm paying close attention to that and I'm trying my best to remember that through the tears I've shed after loosing my constant and beautiful companion. She's just with me in a different way now and it will take some adjustment.

LUCI WAS a magical cat if there ever was one. Her name Luci (short for Lucifur) quickly became one that held the meaning "light-bearer" instead of what one would commonly think of as a name for Satan (Lucifer) in English. Lucern ferre in Latin literally means light-bearer—the morning star or dawn appearance of the Planet Venus that heralds daylight. The name Lucifur stuck for the wrong reasons when she was a kitten, as she was so active and mischievous, but was quickly shortened to "Luci." The Gods must have known then that it would have a deeper and more resonant meaning as the years spent with her came and went. Over sixteen years later, growing from a kitten to a beautiful diva, she makes her exit to the stars. I can only hope her becoming part of the collective consciousness of souls creates more of the light and love needed for this existence in larger quantities than ever before.

I DEARLY LOVED Luci. She left a big void and my heart aches in her absence. It will never be the same without her, but I know her light will continue to illuminate the way. I must keep my eyes open to it and become as watchful to the unseen as a cat.

MEMORIAL | (Top) For some reason, the color red became suddenly significant after loosing Luci. I found this stone cat that was carved in Kenya on the day Luci died.This weekend, I picked red camellia flowers and red-berried holly (both evergreens) from a friend's yard to make a memorial arrangement (composed in a milk glass fish bowl vase). A terra cotta bird Jon gave me this Valentine's day sits atop a tiled bone box bought to hold Luci's ashes. A Christmas bell ornament that Lowell gave me this past season with the word "dream" written on it sits next to the red stone cat carving. Jon and Lowell are two very important men in my life that have realized and shared the incredible love bond with Luci that I did. Lowell was there for the formative years of Luci's comfortable life and I thank him for giving his own brand of magical love to Luci. Jon has been with me the whole time through Luci's illness and death (and a while in health) and I thank him for his incredible love, grace and recognition. Luci thanked them both in in her amazing way of bonding with them.

YOUNGER YEARS | (Above, bottom) This black-and-white photo of Luci taken by Lowell about mid-way through her life has always been one of my favorites. The magical beam of light in her eyes is evident.

©2010 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 memorial photograph and styling by Darryl Moland
photograph of Luci by Lowell Hylden 

harvest and abundance

T H A N K S G I V I N G   is a celebration of the fall harvest, mainly in the United States and Canada, although it is celebrated on different days—the second Monday in October in Canada and the fourth Thursday in November in the United States. A recent Thanksgiving for this American was begun by waking up and looking out the window at the first fresh snow of the season in Toronto, Canada. Growing up in the American South, a white Christmas is a lot to ask for, but this was a new kind of Thanksgiving—the first cold one away from family. That trip was a memorable one and the snow added a fresh, cold, crispness to the air. I'll never forget that day for many reasons, but the memory of the snow will be the one that sticks.

W H E A T,  of course is always a large part of any harvest and is traditionally a symbol of the abundance of the season. Christmas ornaments made of wheat (a Polish and Scandanavian tradition) symbolize a thanksgiving for the harvest, so the theme can be carried throughout the season. Being thankful for the abundance of life is always cause for celebration, but it is tempered by knowing that abundance is hard won. The glass ornaments shown in the photo (above, right) are symbols of home and abundance. Variations of cottage house ornaments with turkeys in front were created in Germany, Austria, and Czechoslovakia and first produced in the 1920's (these are new reproductions from Germany).

M Y   K I T T Y  Luci, who I introduced a few posts back has had an abundant and long life, but this Thanksgiving, while I still have her (she is fast being overcome by an especially nasty cancer on her tongue), the true test is to be thankful for all the times I have had with her, knowing that her days are numbered. She was a stray that appeared in my mine and my partner's life just before Thanksgiving in 1994. We brought her into our household and even after Lowell (my partner then) and I went our separate ways a number of years later, I've always felt like she was our child. It is because she found us that I feel especially lucky to have had such a wonderful life with her. And I am thankful to have been the one to keep her all these years. She has been a profound presence in my life (and in my lap as I write this). I'm not sure what I'll do without my beautiful little muse.

A S   A  B O Y, Thanksgiving always meant a big turkey and sage cornbread dressing with fresh giblet gravy, potato salad, creamed corn, green beans seasoned with pork, and cranberry sauce sliced from the can. I remember bringing in the day excitedly by watching the pomp and circumstance of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV with its gigantic helium balloons—with the Tom Turkey float ushering in a float with Santa on his sleigh. It was the beginning of the Christmas season then. Now, it starts as early as October.

A N D   S O  it is again. As I've said before, home is wherever my cats are. This warm, purring creature in my lap is the only reason I need to be thankful right now. A poem from a book my co-worker, Donna (also a lover of cats) gave me yesterday sums it up:

Cats may not be our servants

or our defenders,

but give us life,

Lying softly in laps, tuning their 

    heartbeats to our own,

singing away sorrow,

easing the mind,

unraveling the day.

Sharing the empty dark.

Like flowers, inexhaustible in beauty.

Like flowers, most necessary—

in ways we scarcely understand,

Healers, Companions.

Mysteries.
                    —Pam Brown 

TURKEY AND THE STRAW | (Top, right), these glass ornaments are symbols of home and abundance. The sheaves of wheat ornaments were made in Czechoslovakia for Martha by Mail a few years back The milk glass turkey candy dish also came from Martha by Mail. The hand-blown and hand-painted turkey cottage ornaments were made by a German company named Zehetner-Smith Design. 

TOM TURKEY |  (Middle, left), the goofy, but lovable Tom Turkey float in the annual Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade (even though I've only seen it on TV) has signaled the start of the Christmas season nearly every year since I was a boy.

YIN AND YANG | (Bottom, right), Abella (top) and Luci almost form a yin and yang figure on the bed last night—a rare glimpse of sisterly love. 

©2009 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

collecting, photography and styling by Darryl Moland

magical, mysterious mushrooms

I N   R E M E M B E R I N G  the first time I had mushroom tea, my friends didn't know whether or not their brew would be strong enough to have an effect. But we all drank some of it, and went along our way to the beach where they kept their catamaran. Just as we were launching it into the emerald green water of the Gulf of Mexico at Seaside, Florida (the idyllic town where The Truman Show was filmed), everything suddenly became indescribably more vibrant on this beautifully sunny and warm day. Riding the waves, the emerald-clear water we glided over was gradually dotted with beige, pink, and purple jellyfish and dolphins swam playfully along with us—no lie! I have never felt so at one with nature. We were giddy with laughter and excitement—and it is still one of the most vivid sensory moments of my life. It was like being in a movie (although it was years before the The Truman Show was filmed there). 

O N E   F R I E N D  who was with our group that day, John (A.J.) Prescott died this summer at the young age of 45. Again, I must be channeling some sort of energy from the many loved ones who have passed on in the last few years (too many). All their love still lives inside of me and I have to let it out now that they're gone—by doing something that is cathartic. A.J. and I were soulmates—friends that could always pick up where we left off. He was always bringing people together in magical ways—he introduced me to Lowell, who I spent six years together with in a wonderful relationship (still great friends). A.J. packed more into his 45 years that most people do in three lifetimes, so I can't be sad he is gone. He lived his life full-out, the envy of many of his friends he traveled without, because we encumbered ourselves with the stuff of life—he didn't. He saw places in the world I only dream about and had many experiences in being totally in touch with mother Earth as I have already described. Just maybe he had something to do with what I relate to you next.

A F T E R   I T   R A I N E D  all night and a good part of the day today, I noticed three unusually large mushrooms had popped up in the grass just outside my front door. I have no idea whether these are a kind you can ingest, so I wouldn't recommend them—you've got to know what you're doing if you harvest wild mushrooms—many are poisonous. Just an hour before, I had been talking to my friend Brandon about not knowing what to do for my next blog post. And when I got home, seeing the mushrooms there, an idea just "fell out of the sky" (ancient Egyptians believed that mushrooms were sons of gods, sent riding to earth on thunderbolts)—imagine that! Inspired to use the real mushrooms along with two unique mushroom ornaments I bought last year, I suddenly knew what to write about. Riding in on a lightning bolt—it all came together—lucky indeed! 

M U S H R O O M   O R N A M E N T S  have long been a symbol of luck as a tree decoration. Glass tree ornaments are a German invention. Christoph Müller and Hans Greiner set up Germany's first glassworks in 1597 in the small town of Lauscha. Most commonly, these lucky mushrooms are blown with white stems and red caps dotted with white. You'll find airbrushed spun cotton mushrooms also, but I thought these modern fabric-and-glitter covered wire frame ornaments were uniquely beautiful. And lucky for me, I knew where they were in my unorganized stash.

M A G I C   A N D   M Y S T E R Y  have become an incredibly electrifying force in creating this blog. I find myself "in the zone" when I'm doing it—so I know I'm on an inspirational path. But, the serendipity in life only comes when you are in-the-moment. You feel connected to a collective consciousness—something much bigger than you. It's nice to invite it in. I'll remember my friend A.J. whenever I hang a mushroom on a tree and I'll invite all the wonderful memories of him inside. He was truly a flower child born too late for that era. I'll never forget him. He was never one to be usurped by the status quo—he lived as far off-the-grid as possible. The Times, They are A-Changin', for sure. I can only hope the love and light he gave, has been absorbed into a greater good for the world to heal itself.

RAINBOW'S FRIEND | John (A.J.) Prescott (above, left) was truly a pot of gold to everyone who knew him.

MAGIC MUSHROOMS | The three mushrooms I found that sprung up during an overnight rain (top, right), with two glittered fabric-covered wire mushroom ornaments. The beaded and sequined felt ball ornament with a metallic braided trim rounded out the photo (all from Anthropologie, 2008).

©2009 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
collecting, photography and styling by Darryl Moland

U P D A T E 

Who knew? Bob Dylan even has Christmas in the Heart. His 47th album (left) will be released October 13th, with all the royalties going to Feeding America (and two international charities)—in perpetuity. Now, that is what I call the Christmas spirit! I've never been a big Bob Dylan fan (except for his lyrics), but I'll be buying this one. I stumbled upon the news of it when I was confirming that all my post links were operable. The times have changed, indeed. Serendipity at work . . . again!